


I, Spy

by mnemosius



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Don't Jarate and drive kids, I don't know what I'm doing, M/M, flirtation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:24:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4110664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemosius/pseuds/mnemosius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spy has many targets, and many ways of dealing with them. He does, however, have a favorite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The trick was to always be standing where the eyes were most likely to pass right over him. It was a talent, one he’d honed to perfection in his service to BLU over the many years. Admittedly, he owed his due to the respawn technology many times over - it had taken him a while to figure out that sometimes the dark corners were exactly where suspicious mercenaries would think to look first. 

Then came the belonging walk. It was one thing to don the disguise of any old RED merc, it was another to move as they would. Spy winced at the memory of first few times he’d attempted to keep up with Scout’s speed, only to be made when the other team inevitably noticed that their Scout wasn’t moving nearly as fast as he should’ve been. Soldier and Heavy were easier marks - slowing one’s pace, while grueling long-term, was undeniably easier, though it did make running down the other targets a lot more difficult as well. He preferred to disguise as Pyro, mostly. That mercenary moved so randomly at the best of times that even the most egregious mistake Spy made could sometimes be excused as yet another of the masked man’s bizarre quirks. He’d slipped by their defenses many a time wearing that mask as a face. 

He preferred to disguise as the RED Spy as little as possible. And no, he didn’t want to talk about it. 

Then there were his targets. Ironically, Pyro wasn’t just his favorite disguise, he was also Spy’s worst enemy. The number of times he’d approached the mercenary’s back, only to find himself covered in flames… it was too high to count. Scout was almost as bad. He would have to wait for the little Boston brat to practically run into him if he wanted to get the backstab proper. Though admittedly, taunting the boy was perhaps one of Spy’s most enjoyable hobbies. 

Soldier, Heavy and Medic were always so thick on the front lines that Spy regarded the three as perhaps his easiest targets. They were so good at their jobs that they couldn’t help but get caught up in the moment - and Spy, well, he lived for that moment. Even if that moment usually meant dabbing with a wet cloth endlessly to get the blood out of his suit. That being said, if any of the three managed to catch sight of him, Spy knew better than to stick around and fight it out. Even Medic was more than capable of showing him just how to use the Ubersaw to the best effect. Demoman was much the same, though Spy had to be careful when running away as well. He’d learned at the point of the brute’s sword many times that trying to outrun him was a lost cause. He had to find a corner to hide in, every time.

Engie was a challenge if he was close to one of his admittedly ingenious creations, but an easy target if he wasn’t. He did so love to break that man’s work, if only to catch the strains of muffled swearing as he battered away at Spy’s sappers with that wrench of his. Though being chased by that same wrench was… less enjoyable.

RED Spy shared the same weakness he did. Get too caught up in the chase, and you’re leaving your own back wide open for a knife. Some days it felt like they were simply trading blows back and forth, neither able to get the advantage, always chasing what amounted to little more than a shadow. 

But all of them were mere distractions, keeping Spy from his only true target. Spy edged a little closer, keeping his Invis Watch active as he crossed the open air of the walltop, until he reached the little covered area that Sniper had made his perch at. The ridiculously tall and gangly Australian was sitting down, sniper rifle at the ready as his gaze was focussed on targets likely a great distance away. 

Spy took a moment to just watch Sniper work. There was a barely-present tension in the air, a product of the razor-sharp focus the taller man brought to bear. A second later a deafening shot rang out, and Sniper’s hand effortlessly worked the reload mechanism, sending bullet shells rattling to the floor, rolling to a stop right by Spy’s foot. He barely noticed, and slowly, ever so slowly, made his way to Sniper’s back. 

He’d done it. Sniper was as good as his. So, grinning, he leaned back against a wall and lit a cigarette, drawing in the smoke with a satisfied breath. Then he calmly raised a single finger, and pressed it lightly against Sniper’s neck.

“Tag,” Spy said, and allowed himself a quiet chuckle as Sniper let out a little scream and fell off his stool, standing up and glaring at Spy a moment later.

“I don’t know how you keep doing that,” Sniper growled, the twang of his accent sending perhaps just the slightest shiver down Spy’s spine. He disguised it with a shrug, blowing smoke to the side out of courtesy.

“Think of it as me keeping the mystery alive,” Spy said lightly. “Besides, not being seen is what I do. I am, after all, the Spy.”

Sniper sighed. “I suppose I should be bloody grateful that you don’t keep yourself cloaked anymore, is that it?”

Spy raised an eyebrow - purely for his own benefit, of course. The mask defeated the purpose of anything more than that. “Well, I should say so. It makes kissing you rather difficult.” 

Spy was rewarded by the surge of red in the other man’s ears - and he would never get tired of making the other man flush so prettily, not ever - and then he leaned forward, and pressed the lightest of kisses directly on the other man’s lips. It was barely a moment before Sniper responded, and oh, that was the wall he was pressed against, and if there was one thing Spy loved it was seeing Sniper overcome that shyness, because when the taller man used his body as he did his rifle, with a purpose, then oh, it was something to experience. That was worth a bit of rubble on his suit. It was worth a lot more than that, especially if he got to see the other man grinning beneath that ridiculous hat of his.   
“I nominate,” he said breathily between kisses, “that we let our respective teams believe that we’ve taken each other out. I think we can steal this moment for ourselves, don’t you?”

Sniper grinned helplessly. “You really are a rogue. Backstabbing and stealing, and always in that bloody suit.”

Spy offered a smile in return. “It doesn’t always need to be in the suit. After this skirmish, perhaps? We can enjoy the hospitality of the delightful vehicle of yours again - unless, of course, you’ve decided to see sense and accompany me to my residence this time. If you know where it is.”

There a noise outside as the RED Scout raced past to go irritate another of Spy’s teammates, and the two broke apart, breathing heavily. Spy adjusted his cuffs smoothly, and then headed for the door. 

“Spy,” Sniper called out, and Spy turned back to face him. “Your place this time,” he said, his eyes dark with promise. “I’ll find you. After all,” he tipped his hat, “I’ve got you in my sights, now and always.”

Merde.


	2. Rainy days and dampened spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even when Sniper does spot Spy sneaking up on him, he still loses. Why is that?

The next time the two of them are able to properly meet, it is raining, and Spy was regretting all of the choices he has made in his life to bring him to this moment. Why, with his talents, he could easily have been the finest actor in the world. He could have taken the theaters by storm, had his pick of costumes and masks, and he could have basked in the adoration of his fans.

Instead he was here, standing in the rain, covered in piss and trying so very hard to ignore the smell. 

“Serves you right, you wuss,” Sniper said from where he stood next to him, “sneaking up on me can’t always be fun for you, you know.”

Spy took a deep breath to calm himself, and instantly regretted it. That awful smell had permeated every inch of his clothing, even his mask. It was easily the most disgusting experience he’d had in a long while. Still, he was a professional, and that meant he could work even in conditions like this. 

So he turned, looked at Sniper dead in the eyes, and smiled. 

“Sniper,” he said with all the charm and sweetness he could manage, “you know I am a well-traveled man. I have been many places, seen many things and done even more. Are you familiar with the concept of kinks? Sexual fetishes and fantasies? Ah, I see you are, if the color of your ears are anything to go by.” Spy paused, and let the false cheer drop from his voice. “Then let me make one thing perfectly clear. While there are those who may find piss sexually stimulating for some incomprehensible reason, let me assure you that I am not one of them. Douse me with that disgusting jar of yours again, and the next time I visit you the circumstances will be far less than pleasant.”

Sniper snorted. “I still say you had it coming. Shoulda known I’d jump if I heard something. And Jarate’s come in handy too many times for me to stop using it now.”

“Really?” Spy asked. “What a pity. It seems I’ll have to work to clean myself on my own, then.” He activated his cloak, and then moments later shed his jacket. Sniper jumped as the fabric in question reappeared at his feet. 

“You know, bushman, I liked this suit,” Spy’s voice continued, slowly moving from place to place. “The pinstripes were always just so, and no other suit managed to make my form quite so appealing, at least in my eyes.”

He threw his tie next, enjoying the slow, dawning realization on the other man’s face. 

“But then, it seems you didn’t appreciate it quite as much,” he said, unbuttoning the white dress shirt - now an off-color yellow - beneath, and letting it fall to the floor as well. “And now I have no choice but to remove it. After all, it is truly an awful smell. If only you could see just how relieved I am to finally have it off.”

Ah, the slight flutter of those well-trained hands, just the barest hint that Spy’s efforts weren’t going unappreciated. 

“I, ah, maybe I was a little hasty with the Jarate,” Sniper began, and then promptly stuttered to a halt as he heard the soft rustle of a belt being undone, and the aforementioned garment promptly appeared on the floor as well. 

“Clever man,” Spy said approvingly from behind Sniper, so close that every little breath landed in soft puffs on the taller man’s ear. “Do go on.”

“I mean, uh,” Sniper gulped, “I could stand to switch back to my guns. Safer that way, really, shoot ‘em off and send ‘em back to base, no, uh, dousing or anything.”

Spy’s pants and undergarments were a crumpled heap on the floor and Sniper made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Spy idly noticed that the man’s face was nearly as red as his uniform, and found himself smiling despite the lingering smell. He did so have a weakness for matching colors. 

“Excellent logic there, I’d say,” Spy said, leaning on Sniper’s back, enjoying the shiver that ran through Sniper’s body at the touch. “I’m almost tempted to say you’ve learned something from all this. But now what am I to do? I’ve rid myself of the smell, but I still have a long walk back to base, and nothing to wear.” He twined his arms around the other man’s neck, pressing his mask - the one thing he still had on - against Sniper’s cheek. “Could you find it in the newly enlightened heart of yours to help a poor soul in his time of need? That hat of yours would help to keep the rain off, if only a little.”

The hat was pressed into his hands almost faster than Spy could blink, and with a slowly-widening grin, he took off his mask, and donned Sniper’s hat. Spy wasn’t stupid - it had taken months before Sniper was willing to let him touch his hat, and now he was even trusting enough to let Spy touch it in a situation like this. Spy likened it to someone opening a door for him, after years of always having to pick a lock. He rather liked the feeling. Even if Sniper had used that awful stuff on him, perhaps he did deserve a treat. 

So, hat firmly in place, Spy stood in front of Sniper, and uncloaked. 

 

A few hours later, long after the rain had stopped, Spy made his way invisibly past the rest of BLU team, back to his quarters. At that point it didn’t matter that Spy was naked - after Sniper was done with him, he was in no shape to show himself to anybody. His neck was positively littered with bruised, his hair messy and unkempt. But worst of all, he couldn’t seem to stop smiling, and he couldn’t let his teammates see that. They’d know something was up in an instant. 

And if that night, safely in his own bed, Spy wore an old, beaten hat on his head, nobody had to know.


End file.
